Pitch Perfect

Ashley Strahm
6 min readAug 22, 2021

Paying tribute to 7,208 square meters of progress, power, and pride.

“You know, I used to play rugby,” I muttered into warm leather, most of it slick with my sweat.

“Oh? I can see that,” came the reply, soon punctuated by the snap of a belt held taut beneath my chin and laid across both cheeks.

“Wiggle your toes.” Pop! There was a residual crackling as my head settled back on the chiropractic table. It costs $60 per visit to consent to this torture — I would have paid any amount of money not to admit I needed it.

“Ugh,” I moaned. With every contortion, a piece of me folded inward. Where there was once pliability, this body was now stiff. Once used to reaching, pivoting, bending… I now felt I would break. I was used to laying prone this way, just never in a position of submission.

Before, there was no need to acknowledge brokenness or limitation. My body used to be a vessel of potential; the pitch a platform for self-assurance and unyielding opportunity. That field was a place to be whole, to be unfettered.

Now, I’m learning to make peace with a future without that sacred space.

The pitch gave me space to discover my capacity, in both body and mind.

It was there — between those painted white lines stretched across 110 yards of viridescent…



Ashley Strahm

Jersey roots, Durham fruit. Committed to justice, enthralled by stories, and inspired by an equitable future for us all.